[Star Trek TNG] - Double Helix Omnibus

by Peter David

  And the fact that the Federation had chosen to ignore Zebros IV for so long? That was quite all right as far as Picard was concerned. He and his crew would have an even better excuse to pick through the ruins at their leisure, as the first sentient beings in a millennium or more to handle long-buried examples of Zebrosian art and architecture.

  But then, wasn’t time one of the perquisites of lengthy deep-space missions like the Stargazer’s? If Picard and his people were really fortunate, they might even discover some bit of information that would cure a disease or enhance a Federation technology.

  But even if they didn’t, Picard thought, even if all they did was gain an appreciation of Zebrosian culture, that would be all right. He would still be perfectly content with the result.

  After all, he had been in love with archaeology for a long time now. Since his days at the Academy, actually. And that love hadn’t dimmed in all the years that had gone by since.

  Yes, the captain thought, donning his helmet and locking it into place, it would be a rewarding day indeed. And eventually, if Zebros IV was as intriguing as it appeared, it might be a wonderful month. It was difficult not to smile at the prospect, but he managed.

  His away team, he noticed, was less circumspect about its enthusiasm than he was. Tall, gangly Lieutenant Cabrini, for example, was grinning almost ear to ear in the transparent dome of his helmet, and darkskinned Lieutenant M’ketwa was chuckling with pleasure. Ensigns Kirby and Moore looked—and acted, Picard thought with a bit of a frown—like Academy cadets on leave as they joined him on the transporter platform.

  “I realize today’s mission will be of extraordinary interest to all of us,” the captain told them, his voice muffled slightly by the confines of his helmet, “but let us conduct ourselves as scientists and not as schoolchildren, shall we?”

  They sobered up at once, causing Picard to regret the sharpness of his words. These were some of the brightest and most eager young people Picard had ever had the privilege of working with. Of course they were excited. They relished the opportunity to get at those ruins, just as he did.

  “After all,” he added on impulse, “scientists are not compelled to come in from recess.”

  His quip was rewarded with a surprised but pleased smile from Ensign Kirby as they dematerialized.

  Chapter Two

  BIN NEDRACH COULDN’T HAVE asked for a better day.

  The pale green sky that arched over Melacron V was clear and bright. The planet’s two moons, Melia and Melusha, were easily visible near the horizon. There was no wind to speak of, no precipitation, no thermal inversions…and the dark cloud, the meteorological phenomenon called Lai’bok that scoured the surface of Melacron V from time to time, was not supposed to appear for several more weeks.

  He had timed it brilliantly.

  From his perch on the roof of a commercial edifice slated for demolition, Bin Nedrach shifted his position. He had been in the same spot since well before dawn. However, having rehearsed his task repeatedly, he was familiar with every inch of the old building.

  There were three different ways he could swiftly flee once his task was completed, and four places where he could effectively hide himself in the unlikely event that all three exits were blocked. It had been a long time since he had had so many escape options.

  Calmly, his two hearts beating slowly and regularly, Bin Nedrach examined his long, shiny energy rifle again. He had checked it thoroughly already, but the Melacron had learned it was always a good idea to double-and triple-check one’s equipment.

  The trilanium barrel was unmarred, nor was there any debris inside it which might clog the passage of the energy beam. The red safety keypad glowed softly and invitingly.

  Bin Nedrach pressed it with a long, sharp-nailed finger and it changed color to yellow, indicating that the safety was off. Then he fingered it again and the safety was restored.

  Good, he told himself. Working perfectly.

  Faint sounds of activity wafted up from the plaza below. It was very convenient for Bin Nedrach that the officials of Melacron V had clustered all their important buildings around the same square. Of course, once his assignment had been carried out, it was entirely possible that the government would rethink that policy.

  Street vendors were setting up shop, their little tents creating a colorful parade of cloth. The sweet scent of roasting shu seeds wafted up to Bin Nedrach’s single wide nostril and he inhaled deeply. The more pungent aromas of grilled trusk flesh and pastries filled with a variety of berries mingled with the heady smell of the shu seeds.

  They made Bin Nedrach hungry. He could do with a hot stick of grilled trusk or a bag of roasted shu seeds, he told himself. But with the iron discipline that had gotten him to the top of a dark and dangerous profession, he put aside his body’s needs.

  Time enough for food—good, exotic food—when his pockets bulged with latinum, he mused. For now, he had to concentrate all his faculties on the work at hand.

  Little by little, the day grew brighter. There was more activity in the square below. Talk and laughter floated up to Nedrach’s small, furred ears and they pricked upward, listening for more significant sounds.

  There was the patter of the scarf seller, as usual. But then, he was setting up for what promised to be a brisk business with the holiday of Inseeing just around the corner. And there was the laughter of the little girl, dancing for a few coins like a leaf borne on the wind while her father played tunes on an old, battered p’taarana.

  Everything reeked of normalcy. Everything was just where it should have been. And that was very much to Bin Nedrach’s liking.

  Abruptly, he heard the soft hum of an approaching hovertran. The sound made Bin Nedrach’s hearts race. His black tongue snaked out to moisten thick, dry lips.

  The hovertran, an official vehicle that could transport up to eight people at a time, shuddered to a halt and floated while the passengers disembarked. They were right on time—punctual, as all Melacron, including Bin Nedrach himself, were punctual.

  As a youth, he had not realized how predictable his people were. Then, at the age of twenty, he began to plan his first assignment and he saw how everything ran by the clock.

  The revelation had caused him to change his habits…to scramble his own comfortable routines. It would make it harder for someone to do to him what he was about to do to someone else.

  One by one, in the same order as the day before and the day before that, the various heads of the Melacronai government descended into the square. The G’aha of Medicine, an older but still attractive female, headed right for the dancing girl. No surprise there.

  As part of his job, Bin Nedrach had researched all the G’ahas in detail. He knew that the G’aha of Medicine had made it past her childbearing years unCompanioned and without children of her own. As a result, her weakness was her fondness for children.

  It would have been simplicity itself for Nedrach to capitalize on that tendency, that vulnerability. However, the G’aha of Medicine was of no importance to him today.

  He watched, noting everything, as the G’aha tossed the little dancer the same number of coins she had tossed the day before. Then the G’aha patted the child on the head and moved toward the tall, spired government building that dominated the square.

  The G’aha of Finance, who could stand to lose a few kilograms, bought a big bag of shu seeds and dusted them with a pinch of blue pepper. Then he too made his way to the government building.

  Chances were, in a few seasons or so, nature would do to the G’aha of Finance what people paid Bin Nedrach to do to others. Food was the fellow’s great love, his ultimate indulgence.

  Parties given at his home for other high-ranking Melacron were said to be extravagant, unforgettable. What’s more, his Companion and children were every bit as rotund and unhealthy as he.

  But to Bin Nedrach, the G’aha of Finance was no more important than the G’aha of Medicine. They simply weren’t on his agenda.

  Next, he
turned his attention to the G’aha of Laws and Enforcements, a slender, handsome individual who seemed rather young for his position. As Bin Nedrach watched, the G’aha stopped to purchase an embroidered scarf from the scarf vendor.

  Bin Nedrach frowned deeply as his boyhood superstitions threatened to get in the way of his duty. For a moment, his mind raced, caught up in an unexpected struggle.

  The rite of Inseeing was the most revered celebration among his people. It was a time to stop, retire to the peace of one’s own domicile, fast for three days and think about one’s life. During this period, all attention was directed inward. The ritual Inseeing scarf, translucent enough to permit vision yet sufficiently opaque to perform a symbolic blindfolding, covered one’s head and face at all times.

  It was said to be the height of evil to harm someone while they wore the Inseeing scarf…or even held it in their hands. Bin Nedrach set his jaw. Then call me evil. The G’aha of Laws and Enforcements had a Companion and children, he knew. Perhaps the G’aha was thinking about them as he admired the scarf, wondering about their futures.

  But for the G’aha of Laws and Enforcements, there would be no wearing of the sacred scarf this year. There would be no fasting, either. Any insights he might have would come in the next few seconds, and he would regrettably have no time to act upon them.

  Steadily, Bin Nedrach lifted his energy rifle. It clicked and buzzed as it automatically locked in on its target, saving him the trouble of aiming the weapon manually. He took a deep breath and pressed the safety pad, releasing the triggering mechanism inside.

  The G’aha of Laws and Enforcements paid the vendor for the scarf, admired its workmanship a bit more, and reverently folded it as he headed for the black stone steps of the government building. He was the only potential customer in the plaza now, Bin Nedrach noted. The other G’ahas had already made their way inside.

  No innocent bystanders would be harmed today—that was very important to Bin Nedrach. He was a professional, after all, and professionals were economical.

  Still holding his breath, with a feather-light touch, Bin Nedrach’s finger brushed the rifle’s firing pad. Instantly, a stream of seething blue energy exploded from the weapon. It struck the G’aha of Laws and Enforcements at the base of his neck—the place where the assassin’s people were most vulnerable to attack.

  The G’aha arched in agony but did so silently, as Bin Nedrach had intended. He fell an instant later and tumbled down the black stone steps like a child’s stuffed toy.

  Bin Nedrach heard screams and wails from the square below, but he was already halfway down the rickety steps of the abandoned building. He did not have to wait to make sure the G’aha was dead. No Melacron struck with such force at the base of the neck could have survived.

  The assassin’s long legs flew and he jumped the last few steps to safety. By the time the stricken scarf dealer had pointed to the top of the building from whence the attack on the G’aha had come, Bin Nedrach was ensconced in his private hovertran and well and safely away.

  He allowed himself a smile as he began to dismantle his weapon, just in case someone stopped him. Mission accomplished, he thought. And if I am fortunate, the gods will have pity on my soul.

  The ruins of Zebros IV turned out to be unlike any Picard had ever examined. In fact, they couldn’t even properly be called “ruins.”

  Nearly every edifice he encountered was comprised of an extremely hard, extremely durable blue material, which seemed to exist in great abundance on the planet. The result was that few of the buildings showed any significant signs of wear.

  Cabrini scrutinized his tricorder readings against the backdrop of an intense orange sky. Then he looked up at the captain. “This stuff is approximately twelve times harder than diamond,” he said. “We won’t be able to cut it with traditional implements.”

  Picard nodded. “Which confirms my theory that this civilization enjoyed advanced technology, despite the deceptive simplicity of the construction.” He found himself warming to the subject.

  “That building there seems to be the most complex,” Cabrini observed. “If we were to—”

  “Ben Zoma to Picard,” came the deep voice of the Stargazer’s first officer, interrupting the ensign’s suggestion.

  The captain hid a grimace. “Picard here,” he said in response. “What is it, Number One?”

  “You’re not going to like it, sir.”

  “Try me,” said Picard.

  Gilaad Ben Zoma’s voice was full of regret. “You’ve got a message from Starfleet Command. An Admiral Ammerman from Starbase Three is champing at the bit to talk to you.”

  Picard felt his heart sink in his chest. The message had, of course, been heard by his away team. They knew as well as he did what it meant and they looked at their captain sympathetically.

  Don’t waste pity on me, thought Picard. Unless I am mistaken, none of us will get to enjoy this trip.

  “Understood, Mr. Ben Zoma,” he said aloud. “One to beam up.”

  “Aye, sir,” came the response.

  Stepping away from the group, the captain eyed each of his people in turn. “Unfortunately,” he told them, “you may not have much more time here. If I were you, I would make it count.”

  The next thing he knew, Picard was standing in his transporter room again. His operator regarded him.

  “Short trip, sir?”

  The captain scowled as he removed his helmet and pulled away his suit’s collar flap. “Too short.”

  Stepping down from the transporter platform, he tucked his helmet under his arm. Then he headed for his ready room, which adjoined the Stargazer’s bridge.

  In just a few minutes, Picard was sitting down in front of his desk, his helmet resting on the smooth, black surface beside his monitor. He thumbed the controls on his workstation and the admiral’s blue-eyed, blond-haired visage filled the screen.

  “Hello, Jean-Luc,” said Ammerman.

  The admiral was an old acquaintance. He and Picard had met at the Academy, where the older man was serving as an instructor, and continued to stay in touch over the years. Picard had been best man at Ammerman’s wedding and godfather to his eldest daughter.

  The fact that Starfleet had chosen Ammerman, who had such a lengthy history with the captain, to deliver what was clearly going to be an urgent message did not bode well. At least, not in Picard’s mind.

  “Hello, Admiral,” said the captain, leaning back in his chair. “It’s been a long time. How is Julia?”

  “She’s great, just great,” said Ammerman. “And she sends her love, of course. But to be honest, I didn’t contact you to talk about my family.” He frowned a little as he took in the sight of Picard’s envirosuit. “Hauled you out of an away mission, did I?”

  The captain eased farther into his chair and began fiddling with the suit. “As a matter of fact,” he replied, “you did. An exploration of some ancient ruins on Zebros Four.”

  “Damn.” Ammerman looked sincerely regretful. “I hate to do this to you, Jean-Luc, but—”

  “Duty calls.” Picard smiled a little. “So…what shape has my duty taken this time, Admiral?”

  The other man’s expression turned sober. “How familiar are you with the Melacron-Cordracite situation?”

  Picard shrugged. The names sounded familiar to him, but he couldn’t place them right away. Then it came to him.

  “Two powerful, unaligned species in the Kellasian sector,” he said. “As I recall, they have been engaged in bitter territorial disputes over the last several years. Their governments have been trying to work toward a peaceful resolution, though there are some radical factions on both sides who don’t share that goal.” Something else occurred to the captain. “Unless I’m mistaken, Admiral, those factions have been responsible for some rather vicious incidents of terrorism.”

  Amerman nodded grimly. “That’s essentially correct. Now jack up the viciousness of the attacks by a factor of ten and thin out the patience of both governme
nts, and you’ve got an accurate picture of how badly things have fallen apart there.”

  Picard ceased fiddling with his suit. “When did all this happen?” he asked the admiral.

  “Over the last couple of weeks.” Ammerman rubbed his eyes. He looked tired. “It’s bad, Jean-Luc.”

  “What about the Benniari?” the captain asked, referring to a neutral species in the sector. “It was my understanding that one of their number was acting as a mediator…that he had gotten the Melacron and the Cordracites to sit down together at an intrasector congress.”

  “That’s right,” said Ammerman. “His name is Cabrid Culunnh, first minister of the Benniari.”

  “Can’t he make any headway?” Picard wondered.

  The admiral sighed. “It’s Culunnh himself who has contacted us, requesting Federation assistance. He tells us that the Benniari are starting to fear for their lives.”

  Picard was disturbed by this, but kept his expression neutral. Had the Benniari been official members of the Federation, Cabrid Culunnh would have become a highly respected ambassador by now.

  Word had it that he had singlehandedly prevented war in the sector by proposing and overseeing the Kellasian Congress. For him and his government to ask for official Federation aid made it clear to Picard just how dire the situation was.

  “Interestingly,” said Ammerman, “it’s Culunnh’s opinion that this fresh wave of terrorist incidents isn’t the work of the Cordracite and Melacronai groups who’ve been responsible for the violence until now.”

  That surprised Picard. “Who then?”

  Ammerman shook his head. “He’s not certain, but he feels pretty strongly about it. I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking or what. If some third party is involved, flushing them into the open might help put negotiations back on track. But as it stands, the situation is pretty dicey.”

  Picard nodded to himself. The Benniari were a peaceful, intelligent people, but their planet was not a wealthy one. They didn’t have the resources to search for an elusive third-party terrorist group—if it was even true that one existed.